I don’t like that she’s stepping away from me, but with her eyes on me, I don’t freak out again.
She knocks on the metal door, and it swings open.
“All done?” The guard huffs.
“Yeah. I’ve got all my fingers and toes intact still too,” she says.
He grabs the bucket from her and shoves her back inside.
A snarl rips from my chest at the sight of her tumbling to the floor onto her hands and knees.
Then, with a buzz and a hiss, the cuffs around my wrists pop open.
I’m free.
And she’smine.
CHAPTER 15
Mirabelle
Everything happens so fast. I have no clue why the handler had to shove me. It wasn’t like I was going to try and run out or anything.
Where would I go?
And I don’t think I even want to run. I get the impression that the alpha, Rage, doesn’t like being alone.
I don’t know whether I like his name. It sounds like the name the handlers gave him.
But I understand why, as his roar echoes through the room. His leather and metallic scent grows thick in the air with the hint of blood as his fury swirls around in the air.
I stumble to the floor, wincing as the rough concrete tugs at the scabs still left on my legs.
Before I can even process what’s happening, a large hand that spans nearly the entire width of my waist hauls me upwards. I’m tucked to his side like a sack of grain before he drags me to the corner furthest from the door.
“Wh—whoa! Wait!” I cry out, reaching down to grab his forearm as he spins me through the air.
My ass meets the cold concrete as he lays me down. Hismovements are rough, even though it seems like he’s trying his best to hold back his strength. It’s almost like he’s so strong, it’s hard for him to be gentle.
Regardless, he’s still considerate, curling one of his large hands behind my head so my head doesn’t hit the concrete floor. His thick thighs bracket my hips as he hovers over me, staring intently with those hypnotizing eyes of his.
“That—that was a little scary,” I say, letting out a shaky exhale as I tentatively reach up and brush my fingertips against his chest to give my hands something to do. “I thought you were angry with me.”
His brows draw down ever so slightly, almost like he’s confused before he offers me a single shake of his head.
My lips tug up into a proud smile. Even if he can’t talk, for whatever reason, it’s nice to know that he still understands what I’m saying.
“Oh! That’s good, then. Thank you for not hurting me.”
He lets out a soft growl, his lip curling back at my words.
I reach up and brush my fingers against his cheeks, trying to smooth out the fierce expression. He flinches backwards at my touch.
“Sorry, I—I should’ve asked whether that was okay.”
He eyes me warily before dipping his head, pushing his face against my outstretched hands. Giving me permission to touch him.
My fingertips brush against the scar tissue along the upper part of his cheek. Because of how large and jagged the scar here is, it makes his snarls look uneven, like one part of his mouth is tugged up permanently.
